


Who Hurt My Spider-Son? (Oh It Was Me)

by Q_loves_you



Series: A Hurt Spider [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: A building falls on Peter, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Q_loves_you/pseuds/Q_loves_you
Summary: “Kid, I’m trying to keep this thing standing. Where the hell are you?”Panic clogged Peter’s airways like water dripping from broken pipes over his face, crushed his lungs like so many tons of concrete. “I can’t - I’m trapped, it’s lo - locked. I can’t get out, I’m st- I’m stuck.”





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I have a new kitten as of today. I thought I should let you all know that. In other news, here's this!

An army of robots.

Cliché, perhaps, but Peter had to admit there was probably a reason it had been done so many times. Robots were less likely than henchmen to disobey or complain. Or betray. But still, using this many robots to rob a bank seemed...excessive. As did the amount of damage they were doing.

Peter couldn’t see anyone obviously controlling the robots, and one against a hundred seemed like pretty crappy odds. But the Avengers were on their way, so Peter kept his distance, webbing up the robots he could and ushering civilians out of the way. Weirdly, the robots didn’t seem all that intent on actually getting into the bank, just on causing chaos, perhaps so whoever was controlling them could sneak inside undetected?

A repulsor blast signalled the arrival of Iron Man, followed closely by War Machine, Falcon, and a Quinjet.

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Stark said in his ear, “Need a hand?”

“This is a lot of hands,” Peter said.

“What can I say? We were bored.”

“We’ve got this Spider-Man,” said _Captain America_ , who knew Spider-Man, which was still one of the coolest things about Peter’s life. “Focus on getting civilians out of harm’s way.”

“You got it. I don’t think everyone’s out of the bank yet.”

“Clearing you a path,” said Mr. Stark.

As soon as there was a relatively safe path in and out of the bank, Peter swung in. He had just opened his mouth to start yelling for people to get out when the building shook. Several people screamed, and Peter flinched.

“Everybody out!” he called, “Stay calm, no need to panic, the Avengers are here! Someone cover their escape route,” he added into his comm. The building shook again.

“Spider-Man, they’re attacking the bank now. Get out of there!”

“Still got civilians inside!” Peter replied. And if they were attacking the bank now, what the heck had they been doing before?

There were only a dozen or so people left when something nearby exploded, and the building shook worse than ever, dust raining down from the ceiling.

“What was that?” Peter asked, eyeing the supporting columns nervously.

“They’re going to bring the building down!” shouted Cap, “You need to get out!”

Peter moved towards the doors with the last two bankers, but just before they reached them, three of the robots charged in with sharp-bladed arms (arms? limbs?) raised.

“Go!” he shouted, running forward to meet the robots head-on. Ignoring the two civilians, the robots rushed to meet him. He took one of them out with a taser web, but received a gash in the right arm from one of the others. The two remaining increased the speed of their attacks, driving Peter farther away from the doors with every other swipe.

“Oh, come on!” Peter shot a web to the ceiling, but it was cut before he could even attempt to swing. He flipped backwards over the counter, and they followed, still slicing away at him. Another taser web took out the smaller robot as another even louder explosion shook the whole building again. The walls around him seemed to sway alarmingly, but it could have been his overactive imagination. He heard Mr. Stark swear.

“Spider-Man! Get the hell out of there, kid!”

Before Peter could reply, he had the wind knocked out of him by a surprisingly strong kick to the solar plexus that sent him flying backwards. He struggled to his feet as a heavy metal door swung shut in front of him.

“No!” He threw himself forward. Surely there was a way to open the vault from the inside? There had to be, there had to be safety codes for this kind of thing. Another loud boom sent something crashing to the floor outside.

“Kid, I’m trying to keep this thing standing. Where the hell are you?”

Panic clogged Peter’s airways like water dripping from broken pipes over his face, crushed his lungs like so many tons of concrete. “I can’t - I’m trapped, it’s lock - locked. I can’t get out, I’m st- I’m stuck.”

...

“Stuck where, kid?” Tony asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice despite Peter’s increasingly desperate breaths.

“Vault,” Peter gasped, “It - it locked me in a vault, and I can’t - I can’t get out. It’s gonna fall.”

“Rhodey! A little help here?” Tony called.

“Sure thing.”

“Almost done with these things,” said Natasha.

“We need to get that vault open, now,” Tony said, then - “Shit!” He shot the robot, but not before it shot something inside that made a heart-stopping cracking noise followed by the groaning of a roof with one too few supports holding it up. Tony flew up to the ceiling inside, braced his hands against it, and pushed upwards, thrusters at full power. It wouldn’t hold for very long. “Cap! Vault door! Now!”

“I’m on it.”

“And I’ve got eyes on our culprit,” Clint said, “Building opposite me, fourth floor. Falcon?”

“I see him.”

“Nonononono, I’m stuck, I can’t...it’s gonna fall.”

“Kid, listen to me,” Tony said, more frightened than he would admit by the panic in Peter’s voice, “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get you out of there.”

Peter didn’t respond. He was hyperventilating now. The others were still talking over their comms, but Tony could only hear Peter’s ragged breathing.

“It’s not gonna fall on you, kid. Come on, would I let that happen?”

“N-no, but…”

“See-”

“But you _did_.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos the response to the first chapter of this fic was incredible I think I'm still processing it

_But you did._

For a long moment, Tony couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or act, because Peter was terrified, and somehow, despite all his efforts, it was Tony’s fault.

“What...when did I...how…?”

“Stay calm, Spider-Man,” Steve said, and Tony glanced down to see Steve running across the lobby and vaulting over the counter. “I’m getting you out of there.”

Peter didn’t seem to hear him, certainly wasn’t staying calm, not that Tony could blame anyone but himself. If he could have, Tony would have been breaking down the vault door himself, but he had to stay put, had to keep the roof from collapsing in on itself. The building was still unstable, groaning under its own weight, and occasionally chunks of masonry fell to the floor.

Tony was pretty sure he could hear Peter half-sob at every crash. When had this happened? How could Tony not have known? Why wasn’t he told?

“Tony.” Rhodey’s voice in his ear brought Tony back to the moment. “He’ll be okay.” 

Tony had no doubt Cap would get Spider-Man out of there or that he and Rhodey would keep the building standing as long as necessary. But there were a lot of ways not to be okay.

…

Peter couldn’t breathe. The air around him was thick with dust and the sounds of collapsing infrastructure. He couldn’t breathe, and the Avengers’ voices were too loud in his ears. He fumbled for a moment before he managed to pull his mask off, gasping for air and then coughing on the dust it brought with it. He could still hear the others outside, finishing off the robots and trying to get him out. But it all blended together into a roar of sound that made him squeeze his eyes shut and press his hands over his ears.  
A much louder, closer crashing sound forced his eyes open again. He was pretty sure he should be embarrassed by the high-pitched noise that just came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t care at the moment.

He was being crushed by concrete, unable to move, alone in the cold dark, and no one was coming to rescue him. But then, why was it so _loud_?

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and Peter flinched violently. Whoever it was, he was shouting something, but Peter couldn’t make out the words through the cacophony of sounds smashing against his eardrums. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even try to isolate a voice. His senses were dialed to eleven, and panic had broken the knob off.  
Then someone picked him up.

...

Steve knew that picking up someone who had just flinched away from being touched was a terrible idea, but it was also his only idea. He expected Spider-Man to struggle but was even more concerned when instead the kid just let it happen. Like he was too afraid even to try.

“I got you, Spider-Man,” he said, though he doubted the kid could hear him. He had to say _something_. The kid was terrified (and he was a _kid_ , he could see without the mask. They all knew he was young, but he looked like a twelve-year-old right now, and Steve would be having _words_ with Tony after this). He took off running, shouting for Tony to follow them as soon as they were clear.

As the bank collapsed behind him, Steve flung himself forward, shielding Spider-Man from any debris. The kid’s eyes were open again, but he didn’t seem to be seeing Steve or anything else that was actually in front of him.

“I’m stuck. I can’t move.” Steve barely heard Spider-Man’s muttered words over the chaos around them.

“Spider-Man, it’s okay,” he said, “You’re going to-”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence. Next thing he knew, he was flying through the air.

***

It said something about their lives that Natasha barely blinked at the sight of Captain America being thrown across the street by a panicking teenager. She’d seen him catch buses before after all.

Trusting that if Steve could handle half the things that had happened in his life he could handle this, she kept running, stopping a few feet from where Spider-Man sat. He was shaking, but he seemed to have realized what was going on at least.

“Spider-Man.”

He stared up at her, and Natasha struggled to keep her expression neutral. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, covered in dust, his arm bleeding, looking absolutely terrified.

“It’s okay,” she said softly but firmly, “You’re going to be alright. Tony, wait for a minute. Give him space.”

“My mask,” Spider-Man said suddenly, “Where’s-I need my mask, where…”

“Here.” Steve had picked himself and Spider-Man’s mask up and approached again. Spider-Man all but yanked the mask back on, the pale frightened teenager disappearing behind red fabric and white lenses as the rest of the team hurried over.

“How’s the Spiderling?” Clint murmured to Natasha.

“I’m fine,” Spider-Man said.

“No, you’re not,” Tony said quietly.

“I’m fine,” Spider-Man repeated insistently, “Or...or I’ll be fine, whatever. Let’s just...let’s go? Did we get the bad guy?”

“Yeah, we got him,” said Sam.

“Then let’s go,” Spider-Man said, getting unsteadily to his feet, “See you around.” He actually made as if to leave, as if Tony was letting him out of his sight any time soon.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Tony said, “Quinjet, now. You’re coming back with us.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m f-”

“You’re not fine. Get in the damn jet.”

***

Spider-Man hadn’t said anything since getting in the jet, which the little experience Sam had with the kid taught him was strange and worrisome. Nobody seemed inclined to talk much, though Sam was sure it would be different if Tony had decided to fly in the jet instead of taking his suit. Steve had that look on his face that always meant someone (frequently Tony) would be getting a lecture.

The silence couldn’t have been helping anyone’s nerves though.

“So…” he said eventually, “Why spiders?”

“What?” Spider-Man stared at him. (Probably. The blank lenses were pointed at him anyway.)

“Spiders. I mean, from what I’ve seen you’re strong and...what, sticky? Good senses? Doesn’t exactly scream spider to me. Why not something less creepy?”

“Radioactive spider bite,” Spider-Man said matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what happened. Basically. A weird radioactive spider bit me, and now I have super-strength, and I stick to things.”

“A radioactive spider.”

“Yeah.”

“Where did this happen? When?” Steve asked.

“About a year and a half ago,” Spider-Man said, “I was, uh, visiting OsCorp and I guess it got loose. It’s dead now.”

“It’s...it’s dead now, great,” said Sam, “A now-dead radioactive spider. This is a new kind of weird.”

Spider-Man shrugged.

“So you got these powers and decided to fight crime at...whatever age you are?” Steve said, sounding torn between anger and admiration.

“We had this great not-asking-questions thing going for a while there,” Spider-Man said, “Could we maybe go back to that?”

Steve considered for a moment, watched by Sam and Natasha. “For now,” he said, “This can all wait until after we’ve all got medical attention.”

“I’m fine,” Spider-Man said, seemingly automatically.

“At the very least your arm is bleeding,” said Natasha, “No point in not getting patched up.”

“Oh, right.” Spider-Man looked down at his arm in what Sam guessed would be surprise if he could see an expression. “It’s fine. It’ll heal.”

“You got super-healing too?” Sam asked, half sarcastically. Spider-Man just nodded. “Of course you do. Still might as well make sure.”

“Sure.” Spider-Man went back to staring blankly at the wall.

“Look,” Sam said, “I get if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but if you ever do, you know where to find me, okay?” Spider-Man didn’t answer, but it wasn’t a no, so Sam would take it for now.

***

“You don’t have any idea what he was talking about?” Rhodey asked.

“If I did, would this be happening?” Tony snapped.

“I don’t know, Tony, I thought you were monitoring everything he did.”

“I’ve got footage of everything he’s ever done in that suit, but there’s nothing like that. And of course he hasn’t _said_ anything about it. Of course. Why would he _tell me_ about a building falling on him? Not like I have him giving daily reports for a reason…” Tony trailed off, grumbling to himself.

“He’s a kid, Tony.” Rhodey wasn’t sure if he was saying it as an attempt at an explanation or as an admonition.

“Yeah, he is. And he was a kid alone in pajamas when he got these powers and started swinging around Queens.”

“He shouldn’t have been anywhere near Germany.” Admonition then.

Tony didn’t respond for a few moments. “No, he shouldn’t. I was desperate and stupid, and he paid the price for that. And now for whatever the hell happened with a building falling on him.”

Rhodey sighed. “You’re doing your best, Tony. He’s a kid. He’s gonna keep secrets. And he’s a hero, so he’s gonna get hurt. You can’t protect him from everything.”

“Apparently I could have protected him from this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you thought I wasn't going to drag out this angst as long as humanly possible?


	3. three

Peter really just wanted a little while alone, in private, somewhere he could take his mask off and...probably cry for a few hours. But first was the flight back to the compound, then getting his arm disinfected and bandaged (they had wanted to put in stitches, but he assured them his healing was more than up to the task, and Dr. Banner had finally gotten them to agree), and now he was sitting around listening to Hawkeye and Falcon summarizing the little they had learned about the person behind the robots. He couldn’t really slip out unnoticed, especially with the way everyone kept glancing at him and Mr. Stark practically hadn’t stopped staring at him since they got back to the compound.

“Spider-Man,” Cap started once the debriefing was done.

“Can we not?” Peter said abruptly, “Sorry. I just...I need to think and...not be here for a bit.” He all but ran out of the room, hoping against hope that no one would follow him, because he did not need to add another breakdown in front of the Avengers to his day of already exceptional crappiness.

He wandered (if you could call something done so frantically wandering) the compound until - by coincidence or subconscious direction? - he arrived outside the room he had stayed in the few times he had slept there. He slipped inside and collapsed immediately, fumbling for the edge of his mask and trying unsuccessfully to not start sobbing.

“Peter, you appear to be in severe distress,” said Karen, “Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”

“No!” Mr. Stark couldn’t see Peter like this, not ever and not twice in one day. And he couldn’t call Mr. Stark anyway, could never.

“Would you like me to call your aunt?”

“No!” She worried enough about him as it was, she didn’t need to hear about him panicking about buildings that fell on him months ago.

“How about Ned?”

Peter hesitated. “Yeah, ok.”

“Calling Ned.” Ned picked up on the third ring.

“Hey Peter, what’s up? I saw that bank on the news. Thought you’d be hanging with the Avengers!”

Peter let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, that, uh…”

“What happened? Are you ok?”

“Not...not really?” There were a few seconds of silence. “The bank collapsed,” Peter said quietly, “One of the robots locked me in a - a vault, and it was...I couldn’t do it, Ned. I couldn’t get ou-out, and no one was co-coming for me.”

“But you did get out, Peter,” Ned said firmly, “and this time the Avengers were there to help, right?”

“They were, but...I don’t know, Ned. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely see I was - I was so scared, and now I just keep thinking about that night with Toomes, and I was so _stupid_ -”

“Woah, no,” Ned interrupted. “You weren’t stupid, Peter. Toomes was just evil.”

“I could’ve died there,” Peter said helplessly, “I could’ve died, and no one would even have known.”

“ _I_ would’ve known. And you didn’t die, Peter, ‘cause you’re, like, crazy strong.”

Peter nodded, trying to convince himself as much as anything else. “I threw Captain America across the street.”

“ _What_?”

“I was panicking.”

“Holy crap, dude.”

“I just had a panic attack or flashback or whatever in front of the Avengers.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s ok. Do you really think none of them have those issues with all the crap that’s happened to them? Tony Stark fell through a wormhole.”

“I guess. I just...well, they also saw my face.”

“Oh. Well, that sucks.”

***

“He really is a kid,” Steve said as soon as Peter had gone. Tony didn’t respond. “Tony.”

“What.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Natasha interrupted. “How old is he?”

“...Fifteen. And before you start, I know. Child endangerment, irresponsibility, desperation, etc. We can talk about it after I fix this.”

“Fix what, exactly?” Clint asked. “Do you even know what happened?”

“If I knew, it wouldn’t have. I need to go talk to him.”

“Maybe give him some time to calm down?” Rhodey suggested. “He might not be up for much talking right now.”

“I’m not leaving him alone. I - oh.”

“What oh?”

Tony didn’t answer. Of course. It was obvious in hindsight. How had he not realized immediately? Why had he never asked?

“Damn it!”

“Tony?”

“I didn’t know,” he said distractedly, “And it’s my fault. I have to go fix this.” He strode out of the room. He had only made it around the corner when Natasha caught up to him.

“When were you planning on telling us he was a child?”

Tony stopped. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, “But he didn’t want you to know.”

“A _child_ , Tony.”

“I know!” Tony burst out, “I know he’s a child, Natasha! But what am I supposed to do? He won’t stop, ever, because he’s too goddamn good for his own good. I know. I _tried_. I told him to lay low, I took the suit away to make him stop, and you know what happened? He went out in his crappy home-made one and got a building dropped on him!” Tony took a deep breath. “I’m trying, ok? I’m trying to help him not get killed. Now, can I go help him deal with my failure?”

Natasha stared at him for a long moment. “Ok. Go look after your kid.”

“He’s not _my_ -” But she was already walking away. There was nothing left now but the long - he’d thought it would be long but he was practically there already - walk to Peter’s door.

He paused outside, not sure what he was waiting for, and heard Peter talking. He hesitated a little longer before remembering that he was Iron Man, his not-his kid was hurt, and also this was his building and he could go where he wanted. He knocked. (He owned the building, but he also had some basic manners. Sometimes.)

“Hey, kid, I’m coming in.” The door slid open as Peter was taking off his mask. He was sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed with red eyes and tear tracks on his cheeks looking basically like a mess, but slightly better put-together than when Tony had last seen him. “Who was that?”

“Ned,” said Peter.

“You didn’t call your aunt?”

“No, I...I didn’t want to freak her out.”

“But your friend Ned doesn’t freak out?”

Peter shrugged. “He already knew, so.”

Tony sat down in the chair opposite Peter. “So, million dollar question now - knew what, exactly?”

Peter sighed. “That uh...I kind of got a building dropped on me that one time.”

“Kind of?”

“Very.”

“What time?”

“When...when I tried to stop the Vulture. He, uh, made his wingsuit take out all the support columns and, well.” He gestured vaguely. “I got out though,” he added hastily, “I mean, it didn’t even take that long, and I still caught up to him. And I remembered what you said, about how I shouldn’t have the suit if I was nothing without it. So I just…” Peter made a weird shrugging movement that Tony did not want to interpret as shrugging off an entire building. “Lifted it off.”

Well, shit. So the kid had gone after super-suited murder-thief with no back-up, no tech, nothing, and been crushed for his troubles, got back up and stopped a plane heist, and then...what? Tony did not want to think about Peter patching himself up in secret, unable to go to any adults in his life, adults like Tony who were supposed to look out for him but instead just got him hurt and ignored him and yelled at him for trying to stop weapons dealers. Tony sighed. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s ok. It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” Tony said sharply, “And it’s clearly not ok either. And it doesn’t have to be. Just talk to me, ok? Or to someone.”

“Would you listen if I did?” Peter looked surprised by the bitterness in his own voice. “I mean-”

“Yes,” Tony interrupted before Peter could start apologizing. “I always listened. I just forgot to make sure you knew that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that a man who talks as much as I do should have told you I got the FBI on it. And I never should have taken the suit.”

“You were trying to keep me safe. You didn’t...you couldn’t have known what would happen. I didn’t know what was going to happen until it was already happening.”

“Still,” Tony said, “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have left you alone for that long, and I shouldn’t have taken the suit. I’m sorry.”

“Well, then I forgive you.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “You what now?”

Peter shrugged. “I forgive you.”

Tony blinked. He wasn’t sure why exactly the simple declaration of forgiveness was making him so emotional, but he was horrified to feel a lump rising in his throat. He coughed. “Right. Thanks. Now, what do you say you call your aunt and stay over tonight? It’s getting late, and frankly I’m suspicious about our robot-master’s plan and why you ended up locked in that vault in the first place. We can get pizza or something.”

“Ok. And uh, thanks, Mr. Stark, for...um.”

“You don’t have to thank me, kid,” Tony said, standing up. “But you’re welcome for whatever it is you think I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I made this clear before, but I love Tony. I love all of them and also acknowledge that they all fuck up a lot. One chapter to go! Because I will draw out all of the feelings I can from one premise!


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I started this fic with a note about me getting a kitten - her name is Noodle, and we (my roommate and I) still have her, and she is still adorable and also very loud

Feeding the Avengers plus a super-powered teenage boy required a _lot_ of pizza, but Tony Stark was a billionaire and probably could have bought them several pizza chains if he wanted to. Peter wasn’t exactly nervous about eating with the Avengers. They’d hung out occasionally (and very briefly) post-mission (post-random-team-up), and it had been only a little awkward with Peter trying to hide his secret identity, but...well, that was the issue here. He was about to have a pizza night with the Avengers without his mask and having had a panic attack or whatever that was in front of them only a few hours ago.

So he was nervous.

That was probably why he wasn’t in the living room yet when he would normally be jumping at the chance to spend some time with the Avengers. He had changed out of his suit and taken a shower, meticulously checked his suit for any damage he could repair, found none, and then run out of excuses to not go join the others.

Why was he even worried? Because they would ask questions? Because they knew he was a kid who freaked out about collapsing buildings? Those were totally normal things that happened. He could handle it.

Peter took a few deep breaths and walked down the hall, into the elevator, out of the elevator, and into the living room, where the Avengers were sitting and stopped talking to look at him when he walked in.

He debated for a moment about just turning around and walking back out.

“Uh,” he said finally, when it seemed no one else was going to break the silence, “hi?”

“Hi, Spider-Man,” Captain America said, and Peter was pretty sure he was trying not to laugh at him, which, rude, not like anyone else was saying anything. “Pizza should be here soon.”

“Cool. Um, you can, uh, call me Peter, I guess, now you all, well, some of you saw my face, so I guess it doesn’t make sense to hide anymore. I’m Peter. Parker.” _Smooth_.

“Christ, kid, just take a seat before you strain something,” Mr. Stark said, “It’s pizza, not an interrogation.”

“I mean, I definitely have some questions,” said Col. Rhodes, War Machine, Rhodey, Mr. Rhodes as Peter sat down. “But yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Peter sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Hold up. No. The kid doesn’t have to answer anything,” Mr. Stark said firmly.

“Tony, come on, we need to know some things,” said Cap.

“It’s fine, Mr. Stark. I mean, they already know the main things, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Do your parents know you’re Spider-Man?” Captain Rogers asked, apparently done waiting for Mr. Stark’s approval.

Peter hesitated. It was a totally reasonable, innocent question, and he probably should have expected it, but he didn’t. “I, uh, live with my aunt, and yeah, she found out a while ago.”

“And she’s ok with it?”

“Well...basically.”

Mr. Stark made a really unhelpful skeptical noise. “Pretty sure she just realized the same thing I did. Doesn’t matter if we’re ok with it or not. Kid’s gonna do it anyway. Might as well let him so he doesn’t hide stuff like injuries and traumatic experiences from us.”

Peter thought that was a little unnecessarily pointed, especially when Mr. Stark added, “Not that it necessarily works.”

“I don’t...hide injuries,” Peter muttered. Maybe he did. A little. But only when necessary, really, and he had a healing factor!

“Somehow that didn’t sound very believable,” Mr. Wilson said.

Peter crossed his arms and leaned back, definitely not pouting. “I share when they’re relevant.”

“An injury is always relevant,” said Black Widow, “Even if it isn’t that bad. It could affect how you fight or get complicated later on.”

“Maybe if Mr. Stark wouldn’t freak out every time I get a scratch,” Peter said, maybe a little unfairly but the way his day was going wasn’t exactly making him feel that fair.

“Excuse me for not wanting your aunt to murder me.”

“Finding out Tony has a parental side is disturbing and fascinating, but I just want to know why you’re even doing this,” said Hawkeye, “You’re a kid. Why aren’t you, I don’t know, doing whatever kids do that isn’t swinging around in spandex?”

“It’s not spandex,” Mr. Stark grumbled.

Peter shrugged. “I can help, so I should.”

“And you said it was a...radioactive spider bite?” Dr. Banner said.

Peter nodded. “It escaped while I was on a field trip to OsCorp. It’s dead now.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

The pizza arrived, and the questions took a backseat for a while to eating and easy conversation. Peter was slowly relaxing when the conversation came back around to him and his abilities.

“So, just to be sure, the webs are synthetic, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t...actually have spinnerets in my wrists. Or anywhere. I made the web formula in chem class. Just seemed like a better way of getting around the city than climbing.”

“Impressive. And, uh, sticking to walls?” asked Dr. Banner.

Peter could die happy now. He had impressed Bruce Banner. “That’s from the spider bite. I can stick to pretty much anything now. Spiders have these tiny hairs on their legs so they can stick to things, so my guess is I’ve got the same thing. Haven’t really checked that out though, but it works through my gloves too.”

“And what else have you got?” Hawkeye asked.

“Uh, super strength, agility, senses, accelerated healing, and sometimes I get this sense that something dangerous is about to happen before it happens.”

“Sounds useful,” said Black Widow.

“How strong are you, anyway?” Col. Rhodes asked.

Peter shrugged.

“Saw him catch a punch from Barnes,” said Mr. Wilson, “Didn’t even faze him.”

“And he held up that bridge thing in Germany,” said Cap, “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” said Mr. Stark indignantly, “Did you-”

“What’s the heaviest thing you’ve lifted?” Black Widow interrupted.

Peter froze. Concrete pressing down on concrete, falling, crushing, he couldn’t breathe…. “Um.” He took a deep breath. He was fine. He got himself out. “Probably that, uh, building. After it - it fell on me?” Crap, they were staring again, and there was concern, pity?, sympathy, sadness in their eyes. “That was, uh, really heavy. Wasn’t sure I’d...even be able to lift it.” Oh god, he was making it worse. Stop talking. “I did though. It’s fine now. Totally...one hundred percent...fine. What about you, Captain America? Heaviest thing?”

Thankfully, Cap took the hint to move the conversation away from that particular subject. “Well, outside of the gym or a lab, I don’t know about lifting, but holding back a helicopter probably counts for a lot.”

“Woah, that’s awesome!”

Cap looked both pleased and embarrassed.

“I mean, I’ve tried to hold together a ferry, but that like, barely worked and then Mr. Stark had to save everyone and yelled at me, and suddenly this seems like a bad topic to bring up. But wow, you actually held back a helicopter!” Peter very much did not look at Mr. Stark.

“A ferry?” Mr. Wilson said.

“Like the kid said, bad topic, move on.”

“No, no, let’s talk about this,” Hawkeye said, looking half amused and half concerned, “Why were you holding a ferry together? What does that even mean? What ferry?”

“The, uh, Staten Island Ferry,” Peter muttered, shoving some more pizza in his mouth.

Black Widow sighed. “Why did the Staten Island Ferry need to be held together?”

“It was...complicated,” Peter said, glancing at Mr. Stark, who just gave him a look that clearly said Peter had no allies here anymore. Thanks, Mr. Stark. “There were these guys dealing weapons made with tech from the Chitauri invasion, and I was trying to stop them, but, uh...it didn’t...go well.”

“Go on,” Mr. Stark said, like a traitor.

Peter frowned at him. “Well, Mr. Stark didn’t tell me he had called the FBI on the same thing, so that sort of threw everything off, and when I tried to neutralize the laser gun thing, well, it kinda cut the ferry in half.”

Mr. Stark actually seemed to be listening now, instead of just egging on Peter’s discomfort.

“So how did you hold it together?” Hawkeye asked.

“I tried to do it with webs, targeting all the strongest points, you know? But I missed one, and then they started snapping, so I kinda just...threw a web at each half and held on? I was kinda panicking. Then Mr. Stark showed up, which was great, ‘cause I’m not sure how long I would have lasted like that.”

“The fact that you lasted at all is impressive,” Cap said.

“Wait, Tony, you yelled at him for that?” Col. Rhodes said, “Sounds to me like the kid did the best he could in a situation he should have been better informed about.”

“I told him to lay low, stay away from the dangerous weapons dealers, and he hacked his suit and ignored me. I may have overreacted, but yes, I was angry at him for that.”

“You took away his suit,” Black Widow said quietly.

“You WHAT?”

Peter jumped at Cap’s sudden shout. The pizza and earlier, easier conversations had been helping, but he was still on edge. Mr. Stark frowned at Black Widow.

“Tony, you took away his suit?” Col. Rhodes asked, disappointed.

“Like I said, overreacted.”

“Do you realize you took away his best protection when you already knew he didn’t listen to you?”

“Who taught you to parent, man?” Hawkeye said exasperatedly.

Mr. Stark looked at him. “My dad. Frankly, it’s a miracle I’m doing this well.”

The uncomfortable tension was back, and Peter did not like the look on Mr. Stark’s face. His father was not a good subject, Peter knew.

“It sort of worked though,” he said quickly, “I mean...it sucked, but it did make me a better Spider-Man eventually.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” said Black Widow.

“Well, look, I forgave Mr. Stark already, and it all worked out, and it’s in the past now. So we can just move on.”

“Someone should probably do some tests,” Dr. Banner mused, apparently having already moved on while the others were arguing, “Find out how strong you are, how fast your metabolism really is. If nothing else, it could help if you ever get seriously hurt.”

“I’d say his metabolism’s pretty damn fast,” said Col. Rhodes, nodding at the empty pizza boxes stacking up.

“I wouldn’t mind figuring out some way to control my senses,” Peter offered. “They get...annoying.”

“Annoying how?” Mr. Stark asked, apparently picking up on the hesitation before annoying that probably meant painful, not that Peter was going to actually say that.

Peter shrugged. “Well, usually they’re not too bad, but sometimes they go into overdrive, and that can be, you know, the worst. Imagine having super-smelling in a high school gym. Not pleasant.”

Several noses wrinkled.

“Plus, living in New York City with super-hearing that occasionally goes out of control is, well, stressful. So, yeah, I wouldn’t mind some tests.”

“We’ll schedule those some other time,” Mr. Stark said, “But it’s getting late. Time for teenage superheroes to be in bed.

“What? No! Mr. Stark, it’s only...oh. It’s only eleven! That’s like...barely late. It’s Friday!”

“You had a long day, kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, the annoying half-false condescension returning to his voice, “Besides, most of us are probably going to bed soon too. Clint’s an old man. He’s already up late.”

“I’m younger than you,” Hawkeye said, which Mr. Stark ignored.

“Go on, kid, off to bed. Don’t make me call May.”

“You’re such a dad, Stark.”

“Shut up.”

Peter got up slowly and said goodnight (to the Avengers!). They did seem to be getting ready to turn in, but Peter was still reluctant to leave.

He didn’t really want to be alone.

***

Tony was vaguely aware that time was passing and he should be asleep, but he had work to do. He might not be able to make Peter’s suit resistant to falling buildings, but he would do his damndest to make it resistant to every danger possible.

“ _But you did_.”

He’d known, sort of, that taking Peter’s suit away had been...not his best moment. But hearing it like that, from the kid himself in the midst of a panic attack because of something Tony (indirectly) caused…. Well, Tony knew what he would be dreaming about tonight, and he was ready to postpone that as long as possible. Plus, the suit needed upgrades if some robot could cut through it.

(And why the hell did Peter end up trapped in a falling building?)

But eventually the voice in his head that sounded like Pepper convinced him to try sleeping at least for a little while because blah blah, health, blah blah, sleep is important, etc.

And if he walked by the kid’s room on not-strictly-his-way to bed, then who would know?

He stopped outside Peter’s door and listened. At first, he heard nothing. Then a soft noise that sounded painfully like a whimper.

“FRIDAY, is Peter asleep?” he asked very quietly.

“Yes, Boss. He seems to be having a nightmare.”

Tony sighed. Of course he was. He probably should have expected this. How would the kid not have nightmares after the day he’d had? Even if he’d seemed to be doing better at dinner, it wasn’t like today just hadn’t happened.

Well, Tony wasn’t going to just stand there and let Peter suffer. ...This was going to be emotional, he could already tell.

He entered the room and made his way over to the bed. Peter was twitching, his face screwed up in pain or fear or both. Remembering the way he had thrown Cap, Tony kept a bit of distance.

“Kid, wake up. It’s okay.”

Peter mumbled something unintelligible.

“Hey, Peter, wake up! It’s just a nightmare.”

Peter sat up, arms flailing, chest heaving. Tony reached out instinctively and caught one flailing hand.

“Hey, it’s me, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Peter let go of Tony’s hand, which Tony hadn’t realized he had been gripping so tightly. “Um. Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

This kid was absurd. “You didn’t, and don’t be sorry. We all have nightmares with the shit we’ve seen. Nothing to be ashamed of.” And oh, if Tony of a few years ago could hear him now.

Peter didn’t say anything for a minute, letting his breathing settle back down to normal.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tony asked awkwardly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. God, how many emotionally honest conversations could he handle in one day?

Peter fidgeted. “I…You don’t have to, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course I don’t have to. I don’t have to do anything, but here I am. Talk to me, kid.”

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, you already know what happened. You know what I have nightmares about.”

Tony nodded. “I do. But that’s only part of it. I gotta know how to help, if I can help. What are you scared of, and how can I make it better?”

“I don’t know what else you can do, Mr. Stark. You gave me my suit back, and I talked about it, and it feels better but...maybe it’s just going to be like this.”

“Nope, not accepting that.” Tony stood up, restless, and was surprised by Peter’s sudden grip on his wrist.

“Don’t go,” Peter said quickly, eyes wide.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Tony sat back down, and Peter seemed to realize what he had done, drawing his hand back apologetically.

“I was alone,” Peter said, like he was trying to justify his reaction or maybe because he couldn’t not say it anymore, “I was alone, and I couldn’t call anyone. It was just me, and nobody even knew I was there. I tried - I tried calling for help, but there was no one to call. I thought I was - I was gonna die there, and nobody would even know, and I was _alone_.”

“Hey.” Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder because holy shit did he ever have to do something, anything, to try to comfort this kid. “Hey, it’s...that is never going to happen again, okay? From now on, you can always call me. Got it?”

“You can’t always be there,” Peter muttered.

And he was right. Tony couldn’t promise that. He was a busy man in a dangerous line of work, and so many things could go wrong. He couldn’t make that promise, but he had to promise something. “If I’m ever not there, there will always be someone, okay? Happy or any of the Avengers. Someone is always going to be there if you need backup from now on.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter smiled, still too small and sad, but a smile nonetheless.

Tony hesitated and then before he could talk himself out of it wrapped his arms around Peter in what he hoped was a reassuring and not totally awkward hug.

“You’ll be okay, kid.”

Peter relaxed, sighing quietly into Tony’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said again. Tony waited for Peter to pull away before standing up again.

“Right, well.” Leaving seemed wrong somehow, but there was nothing left to say. “If you need anything…”

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” Peter asked, so quickly Tony almost couldn’t understand him. He looked up, all wide eyes and embarrassment, and Tony couldn’t refuse.

“Sure, kid. I’ll be right here.”

“You don’t have to,” Peter said hastily, “It’s dumb, but I just…”

“Go to sleep, Peter. I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that was longer than I expected!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, left kudos, bookmarked, etc! The response to this fic has been...amazing. (I'm-I'm shocked.)  
> As always, I live for your validation and to talk about my Spider-Son with anyone who is willing to put up with me talking about him!
> 
> And so much thanks to my friend and beta reader Jessie, without whom none of my fics would actually be written!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, etc. are greatly appreciated! Constructive criticism is fine, but emphasis on the constructive? Thanks for reading!


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